Nighttime Conversations
by r4ven3
Summary: This is an alternative outcome to the post-Cotterdam fiasco in 5.5. Both Harry and Ruth are on suspension while the events are being investigated. Ruth is bored and lonely, and she misses Harry. 5 chapters of irrelevant, (sometimes smutty) nonsense. Completely AU, and on occasion, OOC.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: **** A bit of fluffy nonsense with no point to it at all, and not to be taken seriously! Just an excuse for some pointless smut. **_

_**A plot bunny got stuck in my head and wouldn't let me go, ergo …... it's not my fault!**_

* * *

_Monday 1st May:_

Being at home had been fun at first – all those books to read, all those cupboards to clean out which she'd been meaning to clean out for years – but the novelty was fast wearing thin. It had been four weeks since she and Harry had been suspended – she for twelve weeks, and he indefinitely – and five weeks since the Cotterdam fiasco. Ruth was wishing she'd never run into Mik Maudsley on the morning he'd chosen to throw himself under a train. She wished she'd overslept. She wished she'd taken the bus.

She missed going to work, she missed her work, she missed those she worked with. She missed Zaf and Adam and Jo and Malcolm, and there were even days when she missed Ros, but most of all, _most_ of all …...

She missed Harry.

In her long nights alone she'd contemplated all things Harry, and decided that when and if they met again, she'd do things differently. She was now prepared to meet him at least half way. He was obviously attracted to her. She could see that. Everyone could see that, and she was attracted to him, too, perhaps too much for her own well-being. She'd never quite known what to do about Harry, but now she was forbidden from seeing him, or from having any contact with him, she was becoming much clearer about what she'd _like_ to do about him. Not only had absence made her heart grow fonder, but it had also cleared her head.

She was sitting on her sofa, a half-full glass of merlot in her hand, when the front doorbell rang. The one person she wanted at her front door was the one least likely to be there. Ironically, the person(s) she least wanted to be there were the ones most likely. There was a car outside her house at all times, and in it at least one Internal Affairs goon sat, watching her front door. No doubt Harry was under similar surveillance.

She opened the door to a courier, the name tag on his chest declaring his name to be Todd, and his employer _Across Town Couriers_. "Delivery for Ruth Evershed," he said, thrusting a PDA at her for her to sign.

"Who's it from?" she asked.

"No idea," the young man replied. "Someone else sends `em, I deliver `em. That's how it works."

Ruth signed, and took the parcel from him. He was down the footpath and into his van before she'd closed the door, but not before she'd checked that the IA car was still across the road. It was, and the driver had his head buried in a newspaper.

The parcel, wrapped in heavy brown paper, was the size of a thick paperback novel, the kind sold at airports. She tore off the paper to find a cardboard box. She removed the lid, and inside, nestled amongst styrofoam packaging, was a mobile phone, a charger, and a hand-written note on a piece of card. The note read: _This phone is safe to use – protected network, unlimited usage. Only one number is programmed into it, and this phone's number is programmed into a similar phone in the possession of the other party. Enjoy. Regards, Malcolm._

Of course, without ringing the `other party' she didn't know who it was, but she had a fair idea all the same. Ruth sat the phone on her kitchen table while she cooked her dinner and sipped her wine. She regularly glanced at it, perhaps expecting it to suddenly disappear. Or ring, hopefully. After she'd eaten, and then washed her dishes, she poured herself another glass of wine, retired to her sofa, and waited. And waited.

Of course, she was free to ring him. Phones worked like that – calls in and calls out. She picked up the phone, preparing to ring him, when it rang.

"Hello?" she said, afraid that it wouldn't be him.

"Ruth." Only one person said her name like that, with deep, rich molasses tones that vibrated through her body, even to her toes, and the tops of her ears.

"Harry! It's so good to hear your voice."

"And you too, Ruth. I've missed you. I've missed everyone, but mostly I've missed you."

"How are you, Harry?"

"Bored, frustrated, angry. Apart from that, I suppose I'm good."

There was a long silence while Ruth wondered what to say next. She already sensed a powerful connection between them, and felt the same panic she'd experienced that night at Havensworth. She didn't quite trust herself to handle such intimacy with a man like Harry. Somehow, he always made her feel that she was out of her depth, and struggling to keep her face above the water, while he stood on the shoreline watching her from a safe distance.

"I missed your birthday," Harry continued, his voice low. "I have something for you, but I didn't know how to get it to you without it being intercepted."

"You didn't have to get me anything, Harry."

"I know I didn't, but I wanted to. How was your birthday?"

"The same as any other day in the past four weeks. Lonely."

"I wish I could have been with you."

"I wish that too. It would have been nice to have had company."

She heard Harry say something to someone in the background.

"Do you have someone with you?"

"Only my dog, Scarlet. She's sitting beside me wagging her tail, hoping I'll let her talk to you."

Ruth laughed lightly at the image of Harry with his little dog. "It's sad that I don't talk dog and she doesn't talk human. I think your dog and I might get on well."

"I'm sure you'd get on well. How have you been filling your time, Ruth?"

"Reading, cleaning out cupboards. I never thought I'd ever say I was tired of reading, but I am. I miss work, and I miss everyone at work."

"Have you missed me?"

"Of course, Harry. You're normally at work, and I miss everyone at work. Therefore, I must miss you."

"Mmm, not good enough Ms Evershed." He sounded grumpy.

"Give me time, Harry. I'm still getting used to hearing your voice."

Their conversation continued for another half hour. They covered safe topics, and caught up on how they'd each occupied their time during the previous four weeks.

"Was it your idea for us to have these phones?" she asked him.

"No, it was all Malcolm's, I believe, although I smell a Grid plot. We gave ourselves away to them at the time of Maudsley's suicide."

"We also gave ourselves away to each other, Harry."

"Yes, we did, didn't we?" Harry's voice was gentle, but deep.

The intimacy had returned, and again Ruth felt afraid. She was afraid of where this was going. She was afraid of what Harry wanted and expected of her. She was afraid she'd lose herself to loving him. She was afraid of how much she already loved him. She was afraid of going beyond the point of no return. She was afraid she was already beyond that point …... out of her depth and drowning.

"I'd like to talk to you every day if that suits you, Ruth."

"I'm not going anywhere for a while, so yes, I'd like that."

"Until tomorrow then."

"Goodnight Harry."

"Goodnight Ruth."

She closed the phone quickly, not wanting to wait on the line listening to his breathing. It was almost too much for her. Would she talk to him again tomorrow night? Of course she would. She was already counting the hours.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews for Chap 1. I am quite overwhelmed (and pleased, of course) by the responses. I had been worried about this fic being too predictable, but then I thought it was still worth putting it up for entertainment purposes.**_

* * *

_Friday 5th May:_

"_Pulp Fiction_! Harry, I just don't think a man of your sensibility and sensitivity would choose such a film as his favourite. I don't believe you."

"What about _Goodfellas_?"

"That's even worse! That's about gangsters."

"_The Deer Hunter_?"

"I never saw it. I was too young when it came out, but I know war features in it somewhere, and I can't bear war movies."

"But it's a good movie. They are all good movies, even if the subject matter is somewhat unpalatable. I'm talking about the craft of film-making."

"So am I. _The Red Shoes_ is the perfect film."

"What about _Brief Encounter_?"

"Exquisite."

"_An Affair To Remember_?"

"Enjoyable, if not a little overly sentimental for my tastes."

"At least we can agree about that, Ruth."

"I can't believe you like films with blood and killing, Harry. Don't we have enough of that in our work?"

She heard his intake of breath, and regretted her words.

"You're right, Ruth. We do have enough killing in our line of work. Too much, in fact. Perhaps I've become immune to it."

"I can't believe that, Harry. You're still a good man."

"I'm glad you think so, Ruth."

"I do think so."

They listened to one another breathing. It was what they did when they temporarily ran out of words. It was what they did when they began arguing, or if their passions ran too high. Listening to the other breathing reminded them of who they were – Ruth and Harry – and how important they were to each other.

"Favourite Beethoven Symphony?" he said after a while.

"That's easy. The ninth, the Choral Symphony. You?"

"The seventh."

"Oh, I can see why you like that one. It's so …..."

"So dark?"

"I was going to say it's so moody and troubled, especially the Allegretto."

"So now you see me as moody and troubled. If you wanted to insult me, Ruth, you could have just come out and said it."

Ruth laughed lightly into the phone, her laughter making him smile. How he loved this woman, and how much he wanted to tell her he loved her. But it was still too soon.

"I miss you," he said, when what he really wanted to say was `_I love you_'.

"But we're talking every day," she said.

"It's not quite the same as seeing you," he said, when what he wanted to say was `_It's not quite the same as touching you, kissing you_.'

"No, it's not," she said, "but it's a whole lot better than no contact at all, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, it is. I'll have to consider how to thank Malcolm for this. He's been responsible for giving me something to look forward to each day."

"Harry …..." she began, then changed her mind. It was a silly idea to suppose that they could meet in secret, some time during the night.

"What?" he said.

"Nothing. I was just thinking aloud."

They went back to listening to one another breathing.

* * *

_Wednesday 10th May:_

"Do you know that five out of three people have trouble with fractions?"

"What?"

"That's a joke, Ruth. I heard it on a children's TV program I was watching this morning."

Ruth fell back against the sofa laughing. "Harry, that's not even part way funny."

"So why are you laughing at it?"

"I'm not. I'm laughing at _you_ laughing at it. Infinitely funnier than the joke itself."

"I thought it was quite funny."

"Oh Harry, you must be bored, watching kids' television."

"I woke up so early and couldn't get back to sleep, so what else was there for me to do?"

They again lapsed into listening to one another breathing. Ruth could think of a few things Harry could be doing other than watching TV. She just didn't have the nerve to mention them.

Harry knew exactly what he's rather be doing than watching TV. He knew what he'd rather be doing than retiring to bed early. Talking to Ruth, listening to her voice, was wonderful, but it was also frustrating. Talking to her every day, as they had been now for over a week was delightful, it was what he looked forward to from the moment he woke up, but he wanted more than talking.

* * *

The next night, Harry waited until after 10 pm to ring Ruth.

_Thursday 11th May:_

"Where have you been, Harry? I've been waiting for you to ring."

"You could have rung me."

"I know, but you almost always ring me. I was afraid you might be busy."

"Busy? Doing what?"

"Oh, I don't know."

"Tell me about your day, Ruth," he said, so she did.

Ruth loved having someone to talk to, someone who was interested in what she did, what she thought, what she planned to do next.

"I'm thinking it might be time to paint the living room," she said.

"That's a bit ambitious, Ruth. You might need help doing that."

"Are you offering to help me?"

"I might be. What would you want with me – other than painting your living room – were I to visit you in your house?"

"I'm sure we'd find something to occupy us."

"Like what?"

"Let me see …... you have lovely hands, Harry. Perhaps you could give me a massage."

"I'd like that, but you'd have to rub my shoulders and back after I'd been painting, otherwise I could never manage to massage you." Harry could feel his growing arousal, aware that the conversation was fast entering dangerous territory.

"You'd let me touch your back and shoulders?"

"I would if I could find a way to get to your house without being seen."

"You're a spy, Harry, you must know how to do it. Wear black, avoid the goons, avoid the CCTV cameras, and climb my back fence. How hard can it be?"

"I'm fifty two, Ruth, not thirty two. I'm used to air-conditioned comforts, not haring around London dressed in a black jumpsuit."

"I'd quite like to see you in a black jumpsuit. In fact, I'd quite like to see you in any colour jumpsuit."

"Likewise, Ruth. My imagination is working overtime here."

They filled the resultant silence with their breathing.

"I'm getting cold sitting here at my table, Ruth. Do you mind if I get into bed and talk to you from there?"

"Of course not." Ruth's pulse quickened. Dare she `join him'? "I think I might, too. Your house can't be half as cold as mine."

They both put their phones down while they undressed and then dressed for bed. Harry had been worried that making this move would scare Ruth and result in her running away from him. He knew he was taking a calculated risk by getting into bed while still talking to her. Anything more could destroy their relationship, but he really wanted the `anything more'.

"It's all that talk about jumpsuits," he said when they were both in bed. "It's made me ….."

"I know, Harry. It's made me that way too."

"What way is that, Ruth?"

"You know very well what way. Do I have to spell it out for you?" She heard his throaty laugh down the phone. He had no idea how that laugh affected her. It vibrated throughout her body – to _everywhere_ in her body.

"Are you warm enough, Ruth?"

"Almost. My sheets are cold, but I'll get warm soon."

"Do you want me to warm you up some more?"

Ruth held her breath before she spoke. "Don't mess me about, Harry. I'm not some woman you've picked up in a bar."

There was a long silence, in which she heard him breathing down the phone. "I would _never_ treat you like someone I'd picked up in a bar, Ruth. I love you. You must know that by now. If we can't be together in person, then perhaps we can do the next best thing."

This time it was Ruth who was silent, breathing heavily into the phone. "I ….. I think …... I'm sure that …... I love you too... but Harry, are you talking about …... _phone sex_?"

* * *

_**A/N: And I apologise in advance for where this story is about to go...(*chuckles gleefully, rubbing hands together*)**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: Whilst I have written M-rated H & R, I have never yet written anything like this, so be warned. If it's not your thing, then pass by here. (Who am I kidding? Voyeurs, the lot of you/us)**_

* * *

_This time it was Ruth who was silent, breathing heavily into the phone. "I ….. I think …... I'm sure that …... I love you too... but Harry, are you talking about …... phone sex?"_

* * *

"Nothing quite that crude, Ruth. Let's just talk and see where it leads us."

"I suppose this begins with me telling you what I'm wearing."

"If you like."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Harry, but I'm wearing my fluffy pyjamas – they're pale blue and they have pink and white hearts all over them, and they cover me from neck to ankles."

Harry laughed lightly at her description. "I'm imagining that. They suit you, I think. They make you look cuddly and adorable -"

"Are you saying that I'm not normally cuddly and adorable?"

"God no. They enhance your naturally occurring cuddliness and adorability." He heard her laugh, and smiled to himself. To his immense relief, she seemed to be enjoying herself. "Do they have buttons down the front?"

"Yes, but first you have to tell me what you're wearing."

"I'm wearing a grey t-shirt and black track pants. I also am covered from neck to ankles."

They both breathed into the phone, not sure where to take this, and how far was too far. Harry knew what he wanted – he wanted it all - but was still worried about her. All he had to do was make one wrong move, one ill-timed word, and she would bolt.

"Ruth, before we go on, I want to say something here in all seriousness. I want to ask you to do things, and if you ever feel even slightly offended or uncomfortable about it, I want you to say so, and I'll stop. I'd rather you tell me than have you hang up on me."

"Okay, I understand."

"And you promise to not hang up on me?"

"I promise."

"It's just that I'm a man and you know men, we're …..."

"Sex obsessed?"

"I wouldn't say that. Our bodies run our lives. Talking with you, hearing your voice, not being able to see you, not being able to …... to touch you ….. I'm finding it difficult. My body is …..."

"Reacting?"

"Yes."

"So what you're saying is that you're hard." Ruth gasped internally at her boldness. She could never have spoken those words to Harry to his face, with his dark eyes staring at her, challenging her, looking right into her.

"Yes," he breathed the word, barely able to speak.

"Harry, do you want me to talk you through …... er …..."

"Yes, I would, but this works both ways. It's your turn first. But first we both have to do two things. Plug your phone into the charger – there's nothing worse than having your battery die on you when you're in the middle of something pleasurable. The other thing is we should put our phones on speaker phone. We might need both hands free."

"I understand." Privately, Ruth wondered how often, and with whom, Harry had done this before. If he had, she was grateful, because she had no idea how to go about this. She was a Babe In The Woods where phone sex was concerned.

They took a minute or two to get their phones ready. They each sat their phones on the pillow beside them.

"Are you comfortable now, Ruth?"

"Yes. I'm warm, too."

"Good. Relax, Ruth, and perhaps if you undo the two top buttons of your pyjama top. Tell me when you've done that."

"Done."

Harry's voice deepened, and she felt a shudder go through her body. "Imagine I'm kissing you, Ruth. I've longed to kiss you for such a long time. My lips are soft on yours, and I'm holding your face in my hands, and caressing your cheeks. It's a soft, but slow kiss. My lips are moving over yours. I'm lying beside you on your bed, and my legs are entwined with yours."

He heard Ruth moan.

"I'm touching your lips with my tongue. I'm teasing your lips. What are you doing, Ruth?"

"I'm opening my mouth, and allowing your tongue inside."

"Good girl. I'm sliding my tongue into your mouth, and your tongue is meeting mine. My hand is – where would you like my hand to be, Ruth?"

"Opening the rest of the buttons on my top, massaging my breast, flicking my nipple with your fingers."

"How does it feel, Ruth?"

"It feels …... it feels wonderful. You have very good hands, Harry."

"Thank you, my love. Now I'm lifting my mouth from yours and kissing your neck. My tongue is licking your neck, my hand is still on your breast, but ….. where do you want my hand, Ruth?"

"Take my top off, Harry. I want you to take it off, throw it on the floor."

"Then take it off, darling, and imagine it's me taking it off."

"I've taken it off, and now I'm taking off my pyjama bottoms." Harry could hear the shuffling of material. "I want your mouth over my nipple, Harry, and I want your hands to wander all over me until …... until ….." Ruth's breathing had become heavy over the phone. Harry could feel his erection, and was afraid that the friction with the material of his track pants would bring him to orgasm too soon. He was having a lot of difficulty holding on to his control.

"Where do you want my hands now, Ruth?"

"I want your mouth on my nipple, your tongue flicking my nipple, and I want your hand between my legs. Gently, though, Harry, please be gentle."

"I'm doing what you asked, Ruth, and I'm gentle. I'm just exploring a little, to see how you like it. I don't want to rush you, Ruth. I want you to enjoy this. How does this feel?"

"That's really nice …... but you can touch me there. I like it. Keep going, Harry."

"My hand is between your legs, now Ruth. My thumb has found your clit, and I have two fingers inside you. God, Ruth, you're so wet. Are you wet, Ruth?"

"Yes, I am," she breathed. She was ahead of him, her fingers working gently but quickly.

"What now, Ruth? I'm so hard, and I want you. Are you ready to feel me inside you?"

He heard her breathing, heavier, shallow. "Now, Harry, you can push inside me now. My legs are apart and I'm making room for you to lie between them."

Harry was close to coming, and he was sure she was also. He'd kicked off his track pants, and pushed aside the duvet.

"How does it feel to have me inside you, Ruth?"

"It feels …... it feels …... ohhhhhh..." Ruth's climax was music to his ears, and with two rapid strokes with his hand, he came only seconds after she had, his deep groan reaching her ears through the phone.

They both lay in their separate beds, breathing heavily, but able to hear the breathing of the other.

"Harry, that was …..." Ruth had no words left. She thought that she would have experienced the same intense reactions had Harry simply read to her from Hansard*, or even the White Pages, so powerfully did his voice move her.

"It was almost as good as being together, Ruth. Imagine what we'd be like were we in the same room. The same bed."

He listened for Ruth's reply, still afraid that she'd back off, feeling embarrassed about having let down her defences. All he could hear was her crying.

"Darling, what's wrong? Tell me."

She cried for a little while longer, during which time he silently panicked. At least she hadn't hung up on him.

"Harry," she said at last, "that was wonderful. I'd never done that with anyone, ever. I've never wanted to until now, and I was scared, but you were wonderful …. you were very ….. loving." She waited a little while before she continued. "I can't wait for us to be able to do that with one another …... but together."

Harry breathed out heavily. He had been thinking the same thing. There had to be a way around this, but he needed the help of others to ensure his and Ruth's safety. "I'm working on it, Ruth."

They lay for some time, the sound of the other one breathing providing both comfort as well as company.

"I'm tired now, Harry. I think I might need to go to sleep."

"Perhaps we should hang up now. I love you, Ruth. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Harry. I love you too."

At least two people in London slept very soundly that night.

* * *

_**A/N: Now, I'm not sure that Ruth would be up for that, not at that early stage, but for the purpose of this fic – and to keep the fic as short as possible – I had to ensure that she was. Sorry if it seems a bit OOC for her. I'm certain Harry would have been up for it …... with bells on!**_

_***Hansard is the book of transcripts of parliamentary debates from countries which use the Westminster system of government (UK, Canada, Australia, India, Pakistan, Ireland, and many more). Hansard is not exactly bedtime reading.**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: Thanks for all who reviewed Chap 3 so charitably. I was concerned re Ruth's going along with it all (perhaps like a lamb to the slaughter), but as some have said, it was possible for her to have been that keen, had Harry ever given her the opportunity.**_

* * *

_Friday 12th May:_

Harry awoke with a smile on his face. He hadn't been this happy in months, not since Ruth had agreed to have dinner with him. That had been a very good day, as was the evening they had had dinner together. He was lying under the duvet, wearing only his t-shirt. He smiled and stretched his body at the memory. All he wanted to do now was ring her and talk to her.

But first, he needed to shower, and then he needed to talk to Adam, and to do that he'd need to contact Malcolm on the safe phone.

Ruth awoke a little later than Harry. Her body felt loose and lazy. She felt happy, and before she did anything else, she wanted to talk to Harry, she needed to hear his voice. The safe phone was on her bedside table, still plugged into the charger. She rang Harry's number, but it went to voicemail. Not wanting to leave a disembodied message for him, she hung up. Bugger!

Twenty minutes later, Ruth had showered and dressed, and so she again tried to ring Harry. This time he picked up after the second ring. Perhaps he, like her, carted the phone around with him wherever he went, just in case she rang.

"Ruth? I was just about to ring you."

For some totally inexplicable reason, Ruth was tongue-tied, finding it difficult to talk to Harry during daylight hours, which was ridiculous, of course. Were it after sunset she'd be rattling away about orgasms and erections and whatever else popped into her head. Somehow – she didn't know why – talking openly with Harry while the sun was up made her nervous.

"Ruth …... is something wrong? Do you regret what we did?"

"Regret? Of course not. I'm just …... nervous."

"Do you still love me?"

"Yes, of course I still love you. Why wouldn't I? I've loved you for …... I'm just not …... not as open as you are about …..."

"About sex?"

"Yes, about sex."

"But you managed very well last night, and if what I heard was what I thought I heard, you were not nervous at all." His voice was rumbling in that lower register, which she loved, but at times like these – that is, when the sun had crept above the horizon - left her feeling anxious.

"It's... I can't explain it well, not without you thinking I'm …..."

"I think you're wonderful, Ruth. Nothing will make me believe otherwise."

Ruth had little idea why it was she became verbally incompetent around Harry. She loved him, she had no doubt about that. Of all the people in the world, she trusted him the most. Were she in the most difficult and life-threatening situation she could imagine, the first person she'd call for help would be Harry. It was he she'd called on the morning Mik Maudsley had jumped under a train, and it was because she'd involved him that he had been suspended along with her. So what was the problem? She knew that she had a habit of over-thinking things. She had always over-thought Harry, and it had done her no favours. Perhaps she should do what she'd done last night and trust him totally, and see where that led her. What could be the harm?

They talked for another hour, and just before he ended the call, Harry gave her a list of instructions. Suddenly she felt like a character in a John Le Carré novel.

* * *

_Friday 12__th__ May – 11:38 pm:_

Ruth was sitting on the sofa in her living room, having unlocked the back door and turned off all lights in the house apart from the table lamp beside the sofa, casting a bubble of soft light around her, but which barely reached the closed curtains. Following Harry's instructions to the letter, she knew what he had in mind. She just hoped and prayed he'd be careful.

Before she saw anything, she felt the back door opening, a barely perceptible change in the air pressure in the room. There was a flash of light from the street light out the back, and then the door closed.

"Ruth?"

"In here, Harry." She stood up, suddenly nervous, and slowly moved to meet him in the doorway to her kitchen.

They stood a little more than a yard apart, looking at one another, she mesmerised by his eyes, which glinted darkly in the half light, and he gazing at the shape of her body in silhouette against the glow from the lamplight. When their eyes met at last, she took a small step closer to him, one hand reaching towards him. And then she noticed a movement behind him, a dark form blocking the sliver of light which had found its way through the crack in the curtains.

"Harry?" she whispered, "Behind -"

"Christ, that was close!" came from the tall figure behind Harry. "Hello, Ruth. Long time, and all that."

"Adam! You scared the hell out of me!"

"Sorry," Adam said, glancing quickly at Harry, as if he expected the older man to be angry. Harry's attention was totally taken by Ruth. It was likely he hadn't even noticed Adam entering the house. "I thought I saw a guy in the lane out the back. I figured I was safer in here for a bit before I left."

"So long as you don't stay here too long," Harry growled, turning at last to acknowledge Adam's presence.

"I have no intention of cramping your style, Harry. Besides, I have a life of my own."

"Glad to hear it."

Ruth's reunion with Harry would be postponed until after Adam left. She could see by the expression on his face that Harry was annoyed. She, on the other hand, could wait. She knew it would be worth it. She wanted to hold him, kiss him, and then see where it all led, but she was able to wait. Harry had never been terribly patient whenever his plans were thwarted.

Suddenly the front doorbell rang.

"You two stay in the kitchen, and no matter what happens, don't come out," Ruth said quietly, as she moved towards the front door.

Turning on the porch light, she opened the door to a man dressed in a dark suit with a white shirt and a thin black tie. The IA goons all wore a uniform of sorts. "One of our men was in the lane behind your house, and he believes he saw someone in your back yard."

"Oh, that was Eric," Ruth lied quickly. "He's my neighbour. Our cats don't get on. He was bringing my cat back home before his cat tore my cat apart. It's a bit of a regular thing. No need to worry."

"Right. Okay," said the goon. "I'll tell Phil to come back to the car."

"Thanks," said Ruth cheerily before she closed the door and turned out the light. She then rested her back against the door as she breathed out. That was a close one.

Back in the kitchen, still without the light on, Ruth told the two men what had happened at her door.

"Adam, it looks like you may have to stay here a little while longer," she said, although she noted the sour expression on Harry's face.

Adam slapped Harry on the shoulder. "Just as well I'm leaving you here for three days, then, yeah?" he said.

"Three days? Harry, you said nothing about three days. I thought you were only going to be here for a few hours. Three days – that's …... that's fantastic."

Harry looked at Adam like he was ready to take him outside and shoot him. "Adam, you know I wanted to tell Ruth myself, in my own time."

"Sorry, Harry. I know, I blew it. Sorry, Harry. Sorry, Ruth. God, I'm such an idiot."

"That's an understatement," Harry said through clenched teeth.

Ruth moved close to Harry and grasped his hand in her own. As much as Harry often bewildered her, she also understood that her presence had a calming effect on him. He smiled down at her. "It's okay, Harry," she said. "We'll have plenty of time together."

"I left Harry's bag just outside the back door. You're the only one who can get it without raising suspicion," Adam said, looking at Ruth apologetically.

Ruth ducked out the back door and quickly grabbed Harry's hold-all from beside the path. "What about your dog, Harry?"

"She's in my car," said Adam. "She's spending the weekend with Wes and me, so I can't leave her on her own for too long."

The three of them sat at Ruth's kitchen table in the near dark for another twenty minutes. They spoke very little. The room slowly overflowed with Adam's embarrassment, Harry's anger, and Ruth's frustration.

"What about the lights in your house, Harry?" Ruth said at last. "A darkened house will arouse suspicion."

"Malcolm's sorted that," Harry replied softly. "He remotely connected to my computer, and the lights will come on at the normal times, and turn off. The radio and TV will also be turned on and off remotely according to my normal viewing and listening habits."

"Malcolm's a bloody genius," Adam mused. "If he ever defected to the Russians or the Chinese, we'd all be screwed."

Ruth suddenly saw the humour in the situation, and began to giggle.

"I didn't think what I said was that funny," Adam said.

"It wasn't," Ruth said, putting her hand over her mouth, "but this is."

"I'm glad you think so," Harry said grumpily.

After forty five minutes, Adam surmised the coast was clear, and he left through the back door.

"Thank you, Adam," Harry said formally. "I ….. appreciate your help."

Adam gave them both a quick wave and then he was gone, disappearing into the night, leaving Harry and Ruth alone.

For three whole days.

And nights.

"Would you like some tea?" Ruth asked.

"That would be nice."


	5. Chapter 5

_Saturday 14th May – 12:38 am:_

Suddenly, left on their own, they each slipped into an awkward formality, neither knowing how to change it for the better. Ruth turned on the light above the cooker, and made a small pot of tea. She could feel Harry's eyes on her the whole time. If she'd been capable of making the tea in the dark she would have. Which gave her an idea.

"Harry," she said, once they were both sitting at the table, "I have one request about us being together …... in bed..."

"I can sleep in the spare room if that will make you feel more comfortable."

"I don't want you in the spare room, Harry, I want you in my bed – with me."

"That's good," he said, looking across the table at her. Ruth suddenly realised that he too was nervous. Even someone as outwardly confident as Harry had to have moments of inner doubt.

"When we go to bed – together – I would like the light out. I'll leave the light on in the hall, so we don't stumble around in complete darkness, but for now, I don't want the light in the room to be on."

"I'm happy with that, Ruth. Whatever makes you feel comfortable." His eyes held hers, a message of longing beaming through the air to her.

Suddenly his face brightened. "I have something for you. I bought it weeks ago …... for your birthday." He stood up and pulled his hold-all towards him, opening it and taking a small package from inside. He passed it across the table to her. "Happy birthday, Ruth, even if it is a bit late."

Ruth wanted to say, _You shouldn't have_, but she was glad that he had. It showed that he'd been thinking about her long before her birthday. It showed that he cared about her. It showed that he loved her. Tearing away the gift wrapping, she found a small Tiffany's box. She removed the lid from the box, and nestled in the satin lining of the box was a sterling silver charm bracelet. Hanging from it was one bold heart-shaped charm, inlaid with several garnets and one ruby at its centre.

"Oh, Harry, you …..."

"I should have, Ruth. I wanted to give you something you'd like, and I remembered you'd told me about the charm bracelet you lost while you were at boarding school."

"You remembered me telling you that? I still think that Imogen Elliot stole it. I couldn't prove it, but I'm sure she did. She was _such_ a bitch."

Harry smiled at her words. "Every year on your birthday, I'll give you another charm for the bracelet." Harry moved around the table to kneel beside her. "Here, let me," he said, as he took the bracelet from her hands and undid the clasp. "Which wrist?" he asked. When she indicated her left wrist, he attached the bracelet, and then taking her left hand in his, turned her wrist up and lay his lips where the clasp of the bracelet sat on her skin. It was when he lifted his head to look at her that Ruth took his face in her hands and reached down to kiss his lips.

* * *

They didn't stumble around in the dark. The twilight in Ruth's bedroom made it easy for them to undress in front of one another, and then to slide into bed together. Harry wore only his briefs, while Ruth wore her bra and knickers. She'd chosen to wear her most sexy set, the deep scarlet skimpy ones which barely covered her. Ruth quickly slid under the covers, afraid that Harry would have a coronary. She watched his face register disappointment once she'd covered herself. As he stood there, she could make out the shape of him under his briefs where his underwear hugged his body. She felt suddenly nervous, realising that this was Harry, and he was getting into her bed. With her.

Harry slid under the duvet and lay on his back, not touching Ruth. He felt so ridiculous that he almost changed his mind about the whole thing. Then he remembered how much he had risked to be there. "Ruth -" he said at last, "can I hold you? I don't think we should try to do anything more tonight."

He felt Ruth turn to face him, and her legs eased over the sheet to entwine with his. He turned towards her and put his arms around her loosely, so that they lay together, but not too close. After a while, he put a finger under her chin, and lifted her face to his. He kissed her gently and tenderly. There would be enough time for passion in the following days. "I love you, Ruth," he said against her mouth. "I think we should sleep now. Besides which, I'm quite tired."

Ruth was disappointed she'd have to wait, but she understood. She hadn't been – as Harry had – haring about London dressed in black. His black trousers and black turtle-neck jumper lay over the back of a chair. Perhaps they needed to first spend some time together. "Goodnight Harry," she said. "I love you too."

* * *

While she slept, Ruth dreamed of being in bed with Harry. She knew it was a dream, because it felt disconnected from her real life.

_They are lying in a spoon position with him behind her. His arms are around her, and his hands are caressing her sides, her stomach, her breasts. One of his arms slips under her neck, and his hand finds its way under her bra, where his fingers are teasing her nipple. His other hand snakes down her body and as it reaches the barrier of her underwear, he slides his fingers across the material until she moans, and he then pulls the fabric aside and pushes his fingers inside her. She feels his mouth on her neck, and his erection hard against her buttocks. It is all too much. She can feel herself losing control, her back arching, her breath coming in gasps. _

"_Let go, sweetheart," he says, his mouth next to her ear._

_So she does. She lets the waves of her orgasm take her away. She loses herself to his hands and his lips._

Then she realised this was no dream.

She allowed her breathing to stabilise before she turned her body towards him. She faced him.

"What time is it?" was all she could think to say.

"Somewhere between sundown and sunup," he murmured, his eyes drinking her in, a small smile on his lips.

Ruth pushed the duvet down to their knees, and gazed at Harry's body. His body was as beautiful as it was imperfect. Scars, most of them old, criss-crossed his chest and sides. She only knew the history of one of those scars, from when Tom Quinn had shot him. The rest, she's sure she'll learn about in time. Tonight she wants to enjoy him, to discover him, this man who says he loves her (despite her wondering what he sees in her.) He has removed his underwear; she remembered that when they went to bed he'd been wearing black Ralph Lauren trunks which hid nothing, and emphasised everything. She ran her hands over his chest, his shoulders. She held his face in her hands and kissed him lightly on the mouth, her tongue playing with his lips. He made as if to speak, and she silenced him with a finger on his lips. She pushed her body against him, wanting to know how it felt to be this close to Harry Pearce.

He reached behind her to unclasp her bra, and then he slid her knickers from her body, and she helped by kicking them off. She was still aroused, simply by being this close to him, giddy with the smell of him, feeling his skin against hers, his hands on her buttocks. He was watching her closely, his pupils dilated, his breathing heavy. Her hand travelled downwards, and she gently grasped him, then slid her fingernails the length of him and back. He gasped and pulled back, away from her.

"Did I do something wrong?" she asked.

"Not at all. It's just that I hadn't expected you …. to …... do that."

Suddenly she knew what she had to do. She slid her leg over his hip and in doing, her moist centre touched the tip of his erection. He again gasped, and with his hands on her hips he pulled her closer, and down onto him. Ruth suddenly laughed lightly, thinking back to how Malcolm had sent them the phones so they could talk, and now here they were in bed together. She told Harry, just so that he'd know she was not laughing at him.

"If Malcolm could see us now, he'd require an oxygen mask and a heart rate monitor," he said, so she giggled some more. She reached across to him and kissed him, opening her mouth to receive his tongue.

Before Ruth realised it, they were moving together, she and Harry, making love in her bed. He was inside her and it felt fantastic. He filled her, he fitted her, he completed her. They had been made to fit together in this way. He watched her face the whole time, drinking her in, his hands running up and down her back, and occasionally to the front where he loved her breasts with his hands.

When they came it was intense, and she felt him thrust into her and hold himself there while his breathing, ragged and rasping at first, calmed and settled. They lay together, still joined, their arms around each other, her head on his shoulder, and his chin resting on the top of her head. They slept some more.

* * *

By the time Ruth had showered, dressed and gone downstairs, Harry was making breakfast. She stepped behind him as he stood at the stove, and put her arms around his waist. Her hands made circular patterns on his stomach, and then she quickly slipped one hand down to the front of his trousers, where she groped him through two layers of material. He leaned back against her, and his breathing hitched. He reached down and gently removed her hand.

"Unless you want your eggs to be burnt, your kitchen to burn down, and the fire brigade to be out in force, I suggest you wait until after we've eaten."

"Mmm, all those firemen in my house," she said, as she turned towards the table, then mumbled something about `men in uniform'.

"I've spoken to Malcolm," Harry said, as they sat at the table eating. "He's proven conclusively that the photo of you pushing Mik Maudsley was a fake. The arm wasn't even yours. Scotland Yard is now involved, so it can no longer be kept in-house and covered up. Oliver Mace is being questioned this weekend, and Malcolm says the DG expects you and me to be able to go back to work within a week. I'm expecting a call later today to confirm that. When I receive that call, we'll no longer have to sneak around in the dark to see one another. Ruth …... what's wrong?"

"I rather liked the way we've had to sneak around in the dark."

"Well, I haven't," Harry growled. "I'm too old for running around in the dead of night."

"So …..." Ruth said, hesitating, "what now, Harry? What happens to us?"

"Is that what's worrying you?"

Ruth nodded, her eyes stricken, close to tears.

"We continue, Ruth. Nothing changes. I still love you. You still love me. We see one another, go out to dinner, see a show or two, sleep over at one another's houses, make love as often as we can. We're a couple now."

Ruth smiled, her eyes still tear-filled. "I liked talking to you on the phone late at night."

"We can still do that, Ruth. We can still do that."

Ruth wiped her eyes, fiddled with her charm bracelet, then exchanged a smile across the table with her partner, her lover.

_Fin_

* * *

_**A/N: Thanks for reading, and thank you to those who reviewed. I have a couple of other fics ready to post, but haven't decided which one is next. (Most likely a 3-parter called "After The Deluge".)**_


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